


Not Afraid Anymore

by cleo4u2



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Fluff, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Spanking, Steve is easy, if it’s Bucky asking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 15:30:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13079883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleo4u2/pseuds/cleo4u2
Summary: Before the war, Steve and Bucky were in love. After the Triskellion, Bucky never came back to him. He was convinced his memories and desires were tainted, avoiding Steve in his wish to keep him safe, even from himself. When he finally gets the courage to confess the truth, it doesn't go at all like planned.





	Not Afraid Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, sinbin! Your peaches are an inspiration =3
> 
> All hail our beta, , [NurseDarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry/profile). OBEY THE GLOW CLOUD!

Three weeks, that’s how long Bucky has been out of cryo. Steve was there when he woke, when they gave him the new arm, and he’s tried to see Bucky since. Bucky’s refused him. Refused him over and over until he stopped trying. 

That had been worse.

Bucky knows it’s gone on long enough. Too long; before Wakanda, even. If Bucky ever wants Steve’s friendship, or his companionship, he has to stop avoiding Steve. The least he can do is tell Steve why. How the things he dreams of, the things he wants to do to Steve, just aren’t normal. They’re perverse, wrong on a level that leaves Bucky disgusted and nauseous. Whatever they had before he fell off that train, Hydra’s ruined it by putting those thoughts in his head. Bucky knows that’ll hurt Steve the most. He can see that hope in his eyes every time they meet his own, and he hates to kill it. That’s been the point of staying away: he doesn’t want to hurt Steve.

Now he just has to find a way to explain it all.

Standing before Steve’s door now, Bucky isn’t sure if he’s ready. That’s probably why he’s been staring at the dark wood for over five minutes. The thing is, no matter how much it will hurt, Bucky owes Steve closure. He deserves better than the silence he’s been getting, better than Bucky, than losing his shield and his friends; _God_ , he deserves so much. The _least_ of those things is the truth.

Assuming Steve even still wants to see him after three weeks of the cold shoulder.

Bucky turns away, doubt filling his chest. Immediately he turns back and knocks hard before he can talk himself out of it again. To his surprise, the door opens instantly. That surprise turns to embarrassment as he realizes what it means: Steve knew he was standing there deciding whether to reach out or not. That explains the tight smile, the cool look in Steve’s eyes, and the dark shadows under them. Even still, he looks so damn good; bright and beautiful, like the movie star he should have stayed, not that anyone could have told Steve that. His white shirt stretches over his pecs so Bucky can see his nipples --

Wrenching his eyes and mind away, the thoughts of what he wants to _do_ to those nipples flood his brain, Bucky tries to smile at Steve and knows he fails.

It’s the thought that counts?

“Hey, Steve.”

“Bucky.” 

Steve’s tone isn’t frosted like the glacier he’d slept in, but it’s cool. Bucky will take it. 

“Can I, um, come in?” Bucky runs his hand through his hair and looks around the hall to silently indicate he doesn’t want to talk where other people can hear. “I think I owe you an explanation about… the last few -”

“Weeks?”

Bucky bites his lip, but shakes his head.

“Years.”

That gets Steve’s attention, Bucky’s gratified to see. Both eyebrows go up, then draw together to form lines Bucky wants to smooth away. He thinks there are more than he remembers.

Steve stands like that for a long moment before finally stepping out of Bucky’s way and into the apartment. Quickly slipping through before Steve can change his mind, Bucky closes the door and follows Steve into the rest of the place he’s calling home. It’s almost identical to Bucky’s, down to the older furniture in dark colors, the windowed balcony, and the record player in the corner next to a stack of vinyl. Unlike in Bucky’s, Steve’s got half the records on the floor like he’s actually listening to them.

“I was making dinner,” Steve explains as he leads them into the shiny steel kitchen. “Hungry?”

“Not with what I gotta say,” Bucky confesses.

The look Steve shoots him over his shoulder is sad and that’s… it’s… Bucky doesn’t have the _words_ to express how upsetting it is to see.

“That bad, huh?”

Why can’t Bucky just be a normal fucking person with normal fucking thoughts and fantasies? Steve deserves that. He doesn’t deserve _this_.

As though he can read the answer on Bucky’s face, Steve sighs, “That bad,” but heads to the counter anyway. There’s a pot boiling on the stove, vegetables half-chopped, and seasoned chicken sitting out to be fried. It’s so damn domestic Bucky isn’t sure what to do with himself. He doesn’t belong here.

Steve, though, isn’t of a mind to help him spit out what he has to say. He just picks up his knife and returns to chopping, his back to Bucky as if this is perfectly normal. Maybe it is. What would Bucky know of Steve’s normal? He hasn’t been around to find out if random broken people make their way to Steve’s doorstep all the time with bad news. Maybe it’s a weekly occurrence.

“I remember us,” Bucky blurts. The knife pauses it’s down, back, up, forward repetition for a heartbeat, then resumes. “It was one of the first things… that came back.”

Bucky has pictured this moment a thousand times. Hell, a million times he’d pictured the first moment he saw Steve again after the Triskelion. This, like then, doesn’t go at all as he wants. Steve doesn’t turn around, doesn’t speak. The only way that Bucky knows he’s listening at all is that moment when the knife had stopped chopping.

“I love you so much it hurts.”

The knife stops again and this time Steve’s head lowers, but he still doesn’t face Bucky.

“But?”

The word cuts as deeply as the blade in Steve’s hand would had he thrown it instead.

“Hydra.” Bucky spits the name out, twisting his fingers together as if he can pull the metal off and there will be flesh beneath. “The things they put in my head - Steve, I can’t… I can’t be… The things I want… Not with you. Not with anyone. I can’t. It makes me sick to think of… Especially to you, I can’t -”

Only when Steve sets the knife down does Bucky manage to stop babbling. He’s aware he hasn’t actually _said_ much of anything, but he can hardly admit the truth to himself. Admitting it to _Steve_? He knows Steve deserves the truth, but he wasn’t ever sure he could give it. Now, as Steve turns around, Bucky wishes the floor would open and swallow him whole. It’s not _Steve_ he’s looking at; it’s Captain America, and he’s so, so disappointed.

“They twisted it all up,” Bucky blurts, needing Steve to understand, “my memories, me. I don’t… I don’t remember it right. Us. It’s all…” Helplessly, Bucky gestures with his hands, twining his fingers about each other as if it means anything. “And when I think of you, of us, and I get,” he flushes, “excited, I think of…” Swallowing hard, Bucky makes himself say the words, but they come out as a whisper. “I want to hurt you, Stevie.”

Not a crack forms in Steve’s stony expression.

“Is that so?”

Swallowing again, Bucky nods, because he knows what Steve’s gonna say next. He’s the best guy Bucky’s ever known, and he won’t let something like sex stand between them. Not if they’re in love, but Bucky can’t do that to Steve. He remembers how often Steve wanted it, even if the memories are defiled. 

“And that makes you feel… what?” He doesn’t give Bucky a chance to answer. “I think you said sick. Is that it, Buck? Makes you feel sick?”

It’s the anger in Steve’s voice that has Bucky’s mouth falling open. He expected pleading, cajoling, not the way Steve’s biceps are flexing across his chest so the shirt looks like it’s going to tear. Certainly he didn’t expect thunder-eyebrows and a glare that could melt the hardest of hearts.

“Stevie -”

“Don’t you ‘Stevie’ me,” Steve hisses. “You kept away _before_ this shit with Zemo because of this? You’ve kept away _now_ because of this? Because it makes you sick? To think about hurting me?” Bucky wants to retreat as Steve takes a threatening step forward, but his feet are glued to the tile. “So how’s it make you feel that I liked it?”

A cold, harsh laugh leaves Steve as Bucky loses all ability to speak. He’s honestly not sure how he’s still breathing.

“Thought they put that there, did you?” Steve smiles at Bucky and it’s nasty. “That time you tied me to the bed and spanked me until I couldn’t sit for a week? My ass was red and purple with the bruising, and you couldn't stop touching it. Then we discovered caning, nipple clamps, better rope. You remember how I really like it when you used your teeth?”

Yeah, Bucky does remember how Steve would shout for him as he bit into a shoulder, a thigh, a perfectly round ass cheek. It’s kept him up at night, throbbing with how aroused he is, but it isn't real. The fantasies he’s had, the dreams, the memories… The second he’d seen Steve again, he’d wanted to throw him on the bed, tear off that stupid uniform, and put marks all over Steve’s skin.

“Say something!” Steve shouts, slashing a hand through the air like a sword. “Think I’m just as ‘sickening’, Bucky?”

“I thought it wasn’t real,” Bucky whispers. “I thought… I thought they’d taken the one good thing I had, and twisted it… I thought it wasn’t real.”

Steve stomps across the kitchen and Bucky braces himself for a well-deserved right hook that never comes. Strong arms surround his shoulders instead, pulling him tight into a firm chest, and lock in place. One of them is gasping for air as Bucky winds his own arms around Steve, holding on as hard as he can with shaking hands. He can hardly wrap his mind around what he’s been told. For years he’s been sure of this one thing, the one thing that’s driven all his decisions since he’d remembered he was a person and not a weapon.

And he’d been _wrong_.

“Idiot,” Steve murmurs into his ear.

Bucky laughs, half-hysterical, and Steve’s embrace tightens.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky starts, “I love you and I fucked away two years.”

“No, it’s okay,” Steve says quickly, too quick for Bucky to believe the absolution. “You’ve been through hell, Buck. I mean,” Steve leans back a little and Bucky can look into his blue eyes, “I yelled at you, and you’re here, and… you’re gonna stay?”

Bucky hates the way fear has crept back into Steve’s gaze. It’s worse than the anger and thunder-eyebrows. Yet, he can’t say that lack of trust isn’t deserved. Bucky had run instead of coming to Steve and confessing the truth. If he'd done that, they’d have learned this so long ago, and maybe Zemo wouldn’t have destroyed the friendships Steve had cherished.

“I love you,” Bucky says again, “and if it’s real…” Tentatively, Bucky licks his lips and asks, “Jersey?”

“Our safe word,” Steve confirms, but he’s still not smiling.

“I’ll stay.” Bucky licks his lips, gaze flicking to Steve’s. “If you still want a dip like me around. That Sharon…”

Steve flushes to his roots and Bucky lets himself relax.

“That was a real dick thing I did,” he mumbles. “Just… I wanted you to be jealous.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles, “saw right through you the whole time, punk.”

“Great,” Steve says sarcastically, “Now, dinner.”

“No, I…” 

It’s Bucky’s turn to flush as Steve pauses from pulling away and raises a single eyebrow.

“You keep me waiting for over two years and you can’t wait another hour? Can’t spare a minute to talk to your best guy before you bed him?”

Bucky bites his lip and wants to say no, but he does owe Steve a million apologies. Dinner and conversation can be the beginning of his groveling.

“Sorry…”

Steve’s laughter is not what Bucky expects.

“Clearly you’ve forgotten how easy I am.”

The fire in Bucky’s belly, the one he’s denied for years, ignites at the look of desire Steve offers. He stops hesitating and grips Steve’s hand, yanking him down the hall towards what he guesses is the bedroom. Relying on the layout’s similarity to his own pays off as he opens the door on a simple queen bed and wooden dresser set. The only difference to his own space is the armchair in the corner with an easel instead of a desk with a computer.

For once in his life, Bucky doesn’t care what Steve has been creating. He turns to his artist, takes his tiny waist in hand, and rotates him around until his back is to the bed. They’re both breathing hard, and Bucky imagines his own expression matches Steve’s: eager and needy. It’s been so fucking long for the both of them, and now they can have this thing Bucky has agonized over for months and months. He can touch Steve, dig his nails in, bite down until his teeth leave marks that won’t vanish right away, spank all that pale skin until it’s pink and warm and glowing and Steve is leaking because he loves every second.

“Gonna stand there all night?”

Steve’s voice is low and wonderful, but Bucky’s abruptly unsure. He’s been telling himself this is wrong. Knowing Steve wants it drives him wild, but… sometimes Bucky’s dreams are bloody and Steve never wanted that… he thinks. He can't trust anything any more.

“Did… Did I ever…?”

Concern washes over Steve and he’s holding Bucky again in a heartbeat.

“We don’t gotta push this, Buck.” Steve kisses his jaw, his temple, just above his ear. “We can go finish dinner, try again later -”

“No,” Bucky doesn’t mean it to come out so harsh. “I mean… I’ve just… I’m really not sure what’s real sometimes. This -”

“It was real.”

Bucky closes his eyes, the sincerity in Steve’s voice so at odds with what he’s saying. 

“I dreamt of taking a knife to you -”

“That wasn’t real.”

Despite his relief, Bucky is amused, looking up at Steve again.

“You gonna keep interrupting me all night?”

“Probably.”

Bucky laughs, hugging Steve tight and laying his head on the little shit’s shoulder.

“Guess I should punish you for that, huh?”

If Bucky hadn’t been holding him, he wouldn’t have felt the shiver that passes through Steve’s body.

“Oh, please.”

“Say it.”

The words are a whisper, but Steve has always been on his wavelength. Bucky doesn’t think about what it means, that after everything Hydra did to him, Steve’s _still_ on his wavelength when he says firmly, “Jersey.” It loosens the tightness of his shoulders. Steve will let him know if they’re going someplace he doesn’t wanna go.

Even with his growing excitement, Bucky is reluctant to leave the warmth of Steve’s arms. When he does, he gives Steve a push and watches him bounce on the bed. It does great things for his chest and Bucky’s mouth goes dry.

“Take off your clothes,” Bucky instructs. His voice is hoarse, but Steve’s glance goes from adoring to smoldering. It’s hard to look away until he pulls his shirt over his head, exposing all those muscles and pale skin to Bucky’s gaze. He drinks it in, pulling his own shirt off in turn, and tossing it aside. Sometimes Bucky misses how tiny his Stevie used to be, but never in these moments. The serum has made him perfect, a tall drink of water that only makes Bucky thirstier. One thing that hasn’t changed is how pale Steve’s skin is, which means Bucky’s marks will stand out all the brighter, for as long as they last.

Breath hitching, Steve reaches for his waistband and unzips his pants. It’s slow and deliberate, parting the “v” as he goes to show Bucky he’s wearing nothing underneath. 

Bucky’s voice is breathless as he tries to tease Steve. “Oh Captain, what would people say if they knew you were so kinky.”

“You gonna tell them?”

Shaking his head, Bucky is grateful Steve isn’t wearing shoes as the jeans come off that much sooner. Steve’s legs are his favorite, though, closely tied with the glory that is his back, and they go on for _days._ The fine blond hairs are nearly invisible, muscles prominent and thick. They belong in silk stockings, not that Bucky has managed to talk Steve into them but once. The suit doesn’t count.

“What? And lose having you all to myself?” Steve smiles and licks his lips, looking pointedly at Bucky’s waistline. “No, not yet, sugar. Can’t let myself be tempted by you until you’re properly punished.”

Steve’s lips part, his breathing speeding up. Bucky lets himself imagine he can see the pulse in his throat fluttering. 

“How do you want me?”

Smirking, Bucky walks deliberately to where Steve is sitting on the bed. He used to tower easily over his lover, but this position works just as well to loom, letting Steve feel small. Cupping his hand about Steve’s throat, just under his ear, Bucky tips his head back with his thumb along Steve’s jaw. The ache in his groin grows as Steve moves with him, as malleable as a doll, even when Bucky’s hand slips about to his front. Just a few ounces of pressure and Steve couldn’t breathe, but he just sits there, waiting, anticipating, because he _wants_ it. All of it; every filthy, perverted thought Bucky’s had over the last few years. It's almost too good to be true.

“Over my lap.” Bucky hardly recognizes his own voice it’s so low. “Your pretty ass in the air.”

“Like the first time.”

Steve’s voice is just as affected as he melts into Bucky’s hand, and Bucky can’t keep this distance between them any longer. Bending his neck, he kisses Steve hard while tightening his grip on his throat. Steve moans, opening beneath him so sweetly as their lips move together. It’s what he loves most, and the main reason he thought this couldn’t possibly have been real. Steve is too sweet, too perfect, for someone who’s about to have their ass spanked raw.

The chair in the corner is exactly what he needs, so Bucky pulls away and draws it to the foot of the bed, mostly so they don’t mess up Steve’s work. When he sits, it’s like being dropped into a memory, only Steve is big and healthy and completely naked. The way his hands are fisted, the clench of his jaw, is the same. So is the way his hand shakes as he reaches to take Bucky’s, holding on so tight the metal joints complain. Bucky doesn’t, pulling Steve to him, sliding his hand up his hip, then guiding him to one side.

It’s a little like a trust fall, settling Steve across his lap. The man’s so damn tall he can’t just lean over and lay his weight across Bucky like he could when he was smaller. Bucky catches him as he falls forward, though, settling his weight across Bucky’s thighs, ass high in the air. Like in his memories, Steve wraps a hand about Bucky’s ankle once he’s in place.

Bucky lets out a shuddering breath. It’s real. It was all real. Hydra has twisted his mind into a pretzel, but he’s not a monster. He never hurt Steve, not really, and what he has done Steve wanted. Wants. 

“God, you’re perfect,” Bucky murmurs, dragging his nails down Steve’s back, enjoying the red lines that appear and fade. “Ready, darlin’?”

“Please.”

Though Steve’s said he’s ready and Bucky’s got Steve at his mercy, he doesn’t begin right away. The anticipation is half the fun, building Steve up, making him crave what Bucky’s about to give. Lightly he brushes his palm across one cheek, then the other, and goosebumps race up Steve’s back. When his fingers dip into Steve’s crack, he shivers and wriggles, trying to push back into the touch. Steve’s reactions are intoxicating, driving Bucky to see just how far he can push.

“Stay still, baby,” Bucky chides, brushing his fingers across Steve’s tight hole. “Gonna be good for me, aren’t you?”

Breathless though he is, Steve’s answer is an instant, “Yeah, Buck,” that makes Bucky’s breath catch.

Since Steve won’t be expecting it, Bucky smacks his hand down on Steve’s pert ass. It’s a gentle slap, barely warming Steve’s skin. Nevertheless, Steve hisses and the grip on Bucky’s ankle tightens. Slapping a matching pink circle onto Steve’s right cheek gets merely a hitched breath. Bucky smirks, knowing he can get so much more out Steve. 

Caressing the sensitive skin glowing with warmth, Bucky lets himself enjoy the moment. Steve’s his again, spread over him, waiting for Bucky to mark him, hurt him, and make him scream. It’s intoxicating, and he soaks it in before delivering another six strikes without warning. Steve pushes up on his toes after each hit, trembling and craving what he's being given. Bucky’s aching just from the sound of his hand slapping against Steve’s skin, so Steve’s eager, pained cries go right to his cock. Steve’s stomach rubbing against him through his jeans is deliciously painful and he has to pause because he's getting dangerously close to coming.

Fuck, but he _missed_ this.

As he catches his breath, Steve is completely docile, lying across his lap though the position isn't all that comfortable. Bucky can't stop touching him, running his fingertips along Steve’s sides, down his spine, and around the handprints he’s left on Steve's skin. They're not nearly as red as he wants, but Bucky will fix that. Steve shudders at the sensation, at Bucky’s touch, and it’s hard to remember he’s pausing for a reason.

“Where we goin’, darlin’?” 

“You know the Dodgers move to Los Ange - _Ah!”_

Steve quivers as Bucky turns both of his cheeks a deep red. Bucky’s handprint stands out in sharp relief on his pale skin. They’re not going anywhere Steve doesn’t want, though, and Bucky isn’t about to talk about _baseball_. Not when he has Steve spread over him, each twitch rubbing his jeans against his cock so he aches, tingles, and craves _more._

Now he's putting real strength behind each stroke. The red is spreading from his handprints down and out as he punishes all of Steve's perfect ass. Bucky likes the marks symmetrical, but not nearly as much as the way Steve yelps and scrambles for purchase against the floor. It’s a shame how fast the pale skin will heal again. 

“Like that, baby doll? Need some more?”

“Please, Bucky, oh please.”

Steve’s voice is eager and breathless, sending all vestiges of Bucky’s control fleeing. He brings his hand down hard on Steve’s vulnerable skin over and over, soon panting from the exertion until Steve is writhing and wriggling on his lap. Bucky has to wrap the metal arm around Steve’s waist to hold him in place as Steve’s muscles strain and clench beneath his skin from shoulders to toes. 

It’s beautiful. _Steve’s_ beautiful and it’s all for Bucky. He’s made Steve react like there’s a live wire under his skin, breath hitching, cries melting into sweet, mewling things. Then he stops fighting, giving in, giving _over_ to Bucky. Every bit of him belongs to Bucky, and he’s a perfect crying, twitching mess leaking against Bucky’s thigh. From the tops of his thighs, to the base of his spine, Steve’s skin is red and splotchy. 

Something caged in Bucky’s chest breaks free. Bucky’s arousal curls in his stomach, a tight coil he thinks might snap just from this. He can’t remember being more turned on than he is in this moment. He’s dizzy with power and control, but mostly Steve’s utter submission. 

Steve lets out a particularly loud cry and Bucky freezes, hand in mid air. Gripping Steve by the neck, Bucky hauls him upright. Though he sways on his feet, tears streaming down his face, he holds upright long enough for Bucky to stand and sweep him off his feet. Both Steve’s arms and legs wrap around Bucky as he carries him the short distance to the bed and lays him down. The hiss as his ass touches the comforter has Bucky groaning and his cock throbbing. 

Rolling Steve onto his side as he whimpers and presses his face into the mattress, Bucky marvels at the lack of resistance. Even as Bucky twists Steve about, pulling his ass into the air and spreading his legs, Steve is malleable, letting Bucky get a good, long look at his marks. They’re darkening, Steve’s healing factor already starting the bruising, which will fade into nothing within a few minutes. Long enough for Bucky to enjoy it.

“Look at you,” Bucky purrs. He runs his hand over Steve’s abused ass, reveling in the heat radiating from the abused skin. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes,” Steve gulps.

“You were so good for me, Stevie.” Bucky slips his fingers between Steve’s crack, over his hole, and Steve’s entire body shudders. “The things you do to me. Gonna reward you now, give it to you good.”

“Oh, god, yes,” Steve hiccups, pushing back at Bucky’s fingers.

Twisting about, Bucky leaves his fingers against Steve’s rim and yanks on his hair, forcing his head back. Steve whines, blushing as dark red as his ass, but he knows what Bucky wants. He wants to see Steve’s face, the aftermath of what they’ve done Tears have left patterns on his cheeks, his blue eyes wet and wide. From his forehead to his chest, Steve’s skin is blotchy and Bucky’s never seen him so beautiful. His chest is heaving, nose running, but those eyes shine with utter adoration. Bucky isn’t sure how he’d managed to stay away for so long.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers.

“I missed you,” Steve whispers, eyes shining with more, unshed tears.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bucky promises, releasing his tight grip on Steve’s hair to card his fingers through the soft, blond strands.

“Not without you.”

Smiling, his chest filled to burst with the love he feels for this man, Bucky nods and leans down to kiss Steve. It’s long and slow, their lips moving against each other sweetly. Steve whimpers again when Bucky’s tongue probes at his lips, then opens for him, letting Bucky inside. He teases Steve as his fingers trace his rim, flicking his tongue into his mouth, twisting about his tongue, before retreating to trace his lips. He repeats it over and over until he’s not going to burst the second he’s inside Steve’s tight heat. Steve is writhing, chasing his tongue and trying to push Bucky’s fingers past the furled resistance of his inner muscles.

When Bucky has calmed down enough, he slowly pulls away to find Steve looking up at him dazedly. Smiling, Bucky brushes their noses together. No one gets to see his Stevie like this, open and vulnerable, just ripe for the taking. No one, but Bucky.

“Where’s your lube?”

Whatever Steve says is a garbled mess, but he tosses his head towards a bedside table. In a moment, Bucky retrieves the bottle and shucks off his pants and underwear. Steve hasn’t moved from where Bucky’s placed him on his side, legs spread, punished peach presented for Bucky’s perusal. Bucky can’t help but admire his handiwork as well as how helpless Steve is, on display like that. 

Steve must notice him staring because he spreads his legs wider so Bucky can see his tight hole winking from between his legs. Groaning, he uncaps the bottle and coats his fingers, then wastes no time thrusting a single digit inside Steve as far as it will go. It punches the breath out of Steve’s lungs and he arches, trembling, and then whimpers as his cock drags against the covers.

“Don’t you dare come before I’m inside you,” Bucky growls.

Sobbing, Steve nods and lifts his hips. It keeps the friction from his cock, but Bucky doesn’t mind as it also pushes his ass up and out. He looks like an animal in heat, and Bucky wishes he could just sink into Steve right then and there. 

“God, doll.” Bucky exhales in awe, dragging his finger out and pushing it back in. “Gonna have to get you a nice plug so we don’t have to wait this long again. Have you nice and ready for me whenever I want you.”

Moaning loudly, Steve nods and pushes himself down on Bucky’s finger as he thrusts it back in. Bucky takes it as permission to add a second, though pushing in as quickly as he had the first time. The burn has Steve crying out, tossing his head so his neck arches, tendons standing out in sharp relief. Curling his fingers, he finds Steve’s sweet spot and watches Steve gasp, eyes closing tightly, as his cock twitches and leaks all over the sheets. It would be so easy to push him over, make him come so Bucky can punish him again, but he doesn’t. There will be time later, now that they’re together again, and he wants to chase his own orgasm.

Palming Steve’s firm bruised ass, he squeezes and Steve nearly comes undone, shouting and trying to squirm away. “Hold still,” Bucky says sharply and delivers a quick swat to Steve’s balls. Steve wails and Bucky growls, “I’m not done with you yet.”

Letting out a sound that’s half-moan and half-sob, Steve trembles, all his glorious muscles tensing as he holds himself still. Bucky slowly thrusts his fingers into his hole and squeezes his abused ass again. This time, Steve moans and shudders, burrowing his face into the mattress. Bucky finds it hard to breathe, unable to take his gaze from Steve’s raw rear. He’s taking Bucky’s fingers easily, muscles trembling as Bucky paws at his ass. Each squeeze turns the reddened skin white and makes Steve’s breathing stutter even as his hips have begun thrusting into the air in search of friction.

Softly, Bucky asks, “Where we at, darlin’?” as he adds a third finger.

Steve gasps, “‘M fine,” and Bucky curls his fingers against Steve’s prostate. With each brush, Bucky squeezes Steve’s ass, and he’s soon shouting, thrashing, clutching at the covers as his body humps the air. He’s coming undone so easily, practically stretching himself with how frantic his movements are, pushing onto Bucky’s fingers, then pulling off. If Bucky wasn’t so damn hard, he would stop and let Steve finish, let him do all the work.

“More, Bucky, please,” Steve cries.

Grinning, Bucky shakes his head even though Steve can’t see him. He’s never felt so powerful knowing that he can drive Steve to this. There’s nothing stopping him from touching himself, from rubbing off on the bed, but he doesn’t, because Bucky’s told him he couldn’t come. Instead he endures it, both the pain and the pleasure, waiting for when Bucky is ready to take him. Sweat is beading across his skin, his normally bright hair dark with dampness, and his cock an angry purple, but still he waits, holds off, because he’s Bucky’s.

“Wanna hear you beg for it, Stevie.”

A long, low whine fills the room, and then Steve pushes back hard on Bucky’s fingers.

“Please, Bucky, please,” he pleads. “I need it, need you inside me. Hurts so good, feels so good. Please, give me more. I need your cock inside me, need you to fuck me hard, please. Been so long, so long, Bucky…”

“Shh, baby, shh,” Bucky says soothingly as Steve’s voice breaks on a sob, “that was real good. Real good.”

Part of Bucky wants Steve to ride him so he can see Steve’s expression as his punished cheeks slap against his thighs. The rest of Bucky knows Steve’s too far gone. Leaving Steve on his side, he pulls his fingers out and slicks up his cock. Steve knows what’s coming next - Bucky pounding into him, regardless of how sore his ass is - and has tensed the muscles of his legs and back. Swallowing hard, Bucky runs his metal hand along the delineated lines, biting his lip because Steve has the sexiest back he’s ever seen. Bucky hadn’t known backs _could_ be sexy until they’d been reunited.

When Steve trembles beneath his fingers, Bucky doesn’t make him wait any longer. Kneeling between his legs, he leans over his back and presses his cock to Steve’s tight hole. Slowly he pushes forward, marveling at the way Steve’s body opens around him, taking every last inch bit by bit until his hips nestle against Steve’s ass. The heat radiating off of his bruised body makes Bucky groan and close his eyes, dangerously close to the edge.

“Bucky,” Steve whimpers, and Bucky pulls on his hair, forcing his head out of the mattress again. His lips are red from being bitten and Bucky smiles.

“You can come now, darlin’,” he promises. “Now that you’re on my cock, you can let go.”

Steve’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows deeply, and Bucky begins to pull out. Then he’s done going slow, slamming home so his thighs slap against Steve’s skin. Steve shouts, ripples of tension rolling along his back, and he pulls at the hold Bucky has on his hair. Bucky doesn’t let go, fucking into Steve hard and fast, gaze flicking between his wrecked expression and his raw ass rippling with each thrust. He has to hold Steve’s hip to keep him from sliding up the bed, pistoning into him so the room fills with the sound of skin-on-skin, Steve’s cries, and the grunts Bucky can’t hold back. Steve is holding nothing back, crying out, whimpering, shouting, and limp everywhere but his dick. That’s a swollen, angry red - nearly the same color as his ass before it purpled - and dripping pre-come down the shaft. 

The pace has Bucky’s orgasm fast approaching, though he holds it off as long as he can. It’s hard with the sexiest sight in the world beneath him. Steve’s so close, but he’s just taking what Bucky gives him. Taking it, loving it, and Bucky’s so turned on he’s going to burst. 

Wrapping his hand around Steve’s cock, he squeezes and grunts, “Come on, give it to me.”

The tight tunnel around his dick constricts like a vise as Steve goes utterly silent. Every muscle tenses again, beautiful as his back arches, his mouth open on a silent shout. In Bucky’s hand, Steve pulses and shoots, and Bucky’s vision turns to white. Pleasure races up his spine in a wave, his thrusts stuttering, then stilling, as his cock swells and shoots deep into Steve’s body. Marking him inside in a way that will last far longer than the bruises on his ass. 

Bucky’s got just enough in him to release Steve’s hair, his vision returning to find Steve limp and boneless on the bed, despite the mess he’s made. It’s impossible to move right away. Bucky’s breathing too hard, each breath harsh in his lungs the same as those making Steve’s chest heave and bounce. 

Slowly, little by little, Bucky is able to ease out of Steve, then roll him onto his back. At last Steve reacts, squirming as his ass touches the mattress. Bucky chuckles, indulges himself by leaning down and nibbling on Steve’s tiny, hard nipples so Steve squirms some more, then whines as that has his abused skin rubbing against the rough fabric all over again.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” Bucky’s said it before, but it’s still true. 

Sleepily, Steve just smiles at him, and Bucky returns it before forcing himself to climb off the bed. All he wants is to curl up around Steve, but the guy’s gonna be out of it for a while. It’s up to him to get them clean and tucked in, so Steve will be much more comfortable once he comes back to himself.

“Be right back,” he promises. 

Bucky waits for Steve’s nod, then heads to the bathroom. Turning on the tap, he lets the water warm as he grabs bottles of water from the kitchen and sets them on a bedside table. Steve doesn’t even open his eyes as he passes through, not even when Bucky wets a washcloth in the now-warm water and uses it to clean the spunk and sweat off Steve’s skin. It’s only when Bucky pulls down the covers, then climbs in and pulls them up, that Steve moves at all, wriggling close until he’s been wrapped in Bucky’s arms.

This moment, Steve curled against him, peaceful and pliant, is Bucky’s favorite. There’s nothing sexual about it, but it means more to him than he can ever say. Steve’s trust in him is absolute, and he’s so vulnerable. Bucky’s heart swells with how much he loves this man.

“You told me you loved me.”

Bucky hums, pleased Steve’s coming down, and because Steve's statement is true. In fact, Bucky had said it several times. He hasn't seen him in five years, but that doesn't matter, not with everything they've been through. Bucky fell in love with Steve's soul, and while a person can change, the core of him can’t.

“You were trying to break up with me.” Making a face, Bucky doesn't know what to say to that, so he kisses the top of Steve's head. Steve, unfortunately, doesn't stop talking. “What was the plan, exactly? ‘I love you, but I'm a monster, so suck on that and bye’?”

“ _No_ ,” Bucky huffs, “Look, there wasn't a _plan,_ per se -"

“Oh, _Latin_. You're so embarrassed.”

Bucky smacks his hand down on Steve's butt and earns himself a yelp and a giggle, but it’s a relief as well. Steve isn't mad, even if he has the right to be.

“I hated hurting you,” Bucky tries, “I had to at least tell you why so… I dunno, you could move on.”

The fondness in Steve's voice takes the sting as he declares, “Idiot.”

“Yeah, well, that's why I keep you around, don't I?” Bucky slides his hand up Steve’s spine, into his hair, and pulls him closer to his chest. “I'm just the muscle.”

“Best muscles,” Steve nuzzles his side, then sits up. Bucky doesn’t bother hiding his pout. “You ain't gonna do this again, right?”

Tucking his right hand behind his head, Bucky trails the other along the curve of Steve's bicep. God, his fella is stunning. The marks he’d left are gone, but it doesn't change that Steve is beautiful.

“Never again. I promise, I'll talk. No more running unless you're there with me.”

Steve beams. The punk doesn't smile nearly enough these days.

“I'm sorry, Stevie.” Bucky bites his lip, reaching up to trace Steve’s jaw. “Thinking about it now… It makes more sense that my memories are real. I mean, there was a _lot_ of detail.” Steve snickers. “Just figured some Hydra sicko had gotten creative… and bored.”

“ _Gross_ , Bucky.”

Steve lies down again, head pillowed on Bucky’s chest, and Bucky pulls him close. Teasingly, he suggests, “Couldn’t blame them for having as much of a hard on for you as I do.”

Though it earns him another smack, Steve laughs again, and it's still the most beautiful sound Bucky’s ever heard.

**Author's Note:**

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